I didn’t.
Instead, I stared at the wall, nearly catatonic. Unbelievable. If ever the saying “Ask and you shall receive” was true, it would be now.
This box literally fell into my lap. It was what I needed to put the heat on Tim. If the police arrested him, I could visit him in jail. That was so much safer than having to find him in his turf. Thank you, God. Thank you, Chase. Thank you, thank you.
After forwarding the video to my own phone so there would be two copies, I grabbed my keys and drove straight to the police station.
There was nothing to lose, except maybe my privacy. I went over the confession again. Chase thankfully didn’t mention Wes, or what kind of drug it was. He did mention me, but he only said Tim was trying to get back at me for killing his grandfather. The police had already proved it wasn’t me, so everything had to be okay.
So what if they wanted to question me again about Andy’s death. It was worth it to have Tim right where I needed him. I only hoped they would work fast. Surely they could make an arrest the same day.
Chapter 6
THE LIMIT: DR. EVAN CARTER
I’d told John repeatedly that Weston hadn’t given me the information that I needed yet, but he kept questioning me. He wanted details about our discussion, so I told him everything, except that I was one hundred percent sure Weston wasn’t going to give us anything. I needed him to think I was close. The last thing I wanted was to be dismissed from communicating with Weston.
John seemed satisfied with my debriefing and made a phone call to the sergeant major, letting him know I was still on board.
“Good, Sir, yes, Sir.” He held out the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”
Taking the phone, I hesitantly greeted the sergeant major.
“Dr. Carter, thank you for your efforts. Mr. Wilson has informed me that you’ve worked very hard to come up with an agreement with him.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“The only problem is, we are running out of time.”
“Okay, Sir.”
“So I’ve taken the liberty of speeding this up. I’m going to need your services.”
My heart started to race. What does that mean? What did he do? Sounding as professional and composed as possible I replied, “Certainly, Sir.”
“Good. We’re in Wing 3. See you in a minute.”
I dropped the phone before I heard the sergeant major’s click. The only patients we have in Wing 3 are ones locked in their cells, many restrained. What the hell were they doing?
John was right on my heels. When I reached the wing, I saw four privates hovering around one door and immediately moved them out of the way to look through the glass. Weston was inside with the sergeant major and one of my assistants, restrained on a hospital bed by his wrists and ankles. The sergeant major was throwing buckets of ice-cold water on his face and bare chest. It was a treatment we sometimes did to snap new patients out of their fits. And Weston was not a patient.
“I want to see Dr. Carter,” Weston gritted back with each splash.
“Tell us what you know!”
Coughing up water, he sputtered again, “I want to see Dr. Carter.”
More cold water. I grabbed the knob, but it was locked. “Let me in!” I shouted.
“In a minute, Doctor!”
I turned to John, “What the hell are you doing to him? He’s a civilian. You can’t treat him this way!”
He rolled his eyes and sighed, getting in my face again. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re on a deadline. There’s no time for playing games.”
“There is no deadline!”
“Yes, there is. One of the doctors from his lab called looking for him. We can’t detain him after today, or we risk exposure.”
“Well, you sure as hell can’t treat him like this and not expect him to expose us after he’s released.”
“Who said anything about releasing him?”
“What does that mean?”
“Last I heard he was lost in some mountains near Wintergreen.”
I couldn’t believe this. “We don’t torture people here. We treat them, remember?”
“Well, Doc, you’d better get him to talk, then.”
This was madness. I knew talking would not save Weston at this point. There was no way they would treat him like this and expect he would walk out of here and not look back. I realized then that they were never going to let him leave. Shit. This was not what I signed on for.
Interrupting my thoughts was another assistant carrying a tray.
“Excuse me, Doctor.”
“What is that for?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“The sergeant major requested a tranquilizer and hallucinogen.”
What? “Give me that!” I ordered, snatching the tray. “You are dismissed. You are still under my command here.”
I kicked the door, knowing the only way to end this madness was to re-gain control. Even if it was just to stall.
The door finally swung open. “Sergeant Major, you are way out of line here!”
He looked stunned at my accusation.
“Dr. Carter, you are not the superior here, and Mr. Wilson has information this operation needs.”
I lowered my voice. “Sir, this is my project and I am responsible for what happens here. You are disrupting my progress with him. We were near an agreement before you came in here acting like a barbarian. Now let me handle it from here. It doesn’t have to be this way!”
The sergeant shifted his shoulders back, adding to his already authoritative demeanor and stood square to me. “Doctor, you are out of time. The injections have already been ordered and if we can’t pull what we need out of him after that, then not only is he going to be done, but you will be, too.”
What was that supposed to mean? And ordered by whom? I glanced over at Weston, who was developing a strange bluish color. This couldn’t really be happening.
“Fine. But I’ll do it. His vital signs don’t look good.”
“You have five minutes.”
Once they stepped outside, I walked over to Weston with the tray. He was watching me with brown eyes that pierced through to the deepest corners of my guilt.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He closed his eyes in resignation. “You don’t have to do this.”
“If I don’t, someone else will.”
I hated myself for what I was about to do. With his eyes still closed, he clenched his fists making the veins in his strong arms bulge. I placed my fingers on his arm and a cold chill went down my back. He was ice cold.
“Jesus.” I jerked my hand back.
I rushed over to the door, opened it, and shouted for blankets. John and the sergeant major looked impatient.
“Thanks to you, he’s freezing. I have to get his body temperature back up or the medicine could send him into shock.”
Satisfied with my explanation, they handed me blankets that I quickly used to cover his chest, and then I tapped a vein knowing I didn’t have much time.
“Listen, this is only going to make you feel tired and delirious. Once I do this, I’ll be able to buy more time with you.”
He turned his head away and began mumbling words, “Sophie,” and then something like, “Amelia help me. Amelia make him stop.”
The way he said it made me feel even worse, like a fire of guilt was burning inside my brain but I pushed out his words and pressed the needle into his skin.
It wouldn’t break the surface.
I pressed harder and it still wouldn’t go in. I pulled back, looked at the needle, and checked it. Nothing was wrong with it, so I tried again. I pushed harder and it finally went into the skin, but it stopped short of the vein as if there was a barrier beneath his skin.
Panicked images bombarded my brain. Bloody, screaming, freezing cold images. Then I saw a black and white photo of him with Dr. Oliver Thomas. Or not him. Someone who looked like him. No, it was him. “Jesus Christ.” I dropped the needle on the tray.
&
nbsp; The sergeant major opened the door, “Dr. Carter, are you finished?”
I turned, my hand shaking, “Almost . . . one second.”
He closed the door and I faced Weston again. This time he was watching me.
“What’s going on? Who are you?” I whispered.
His gaze was locked on mine as he answered softly, “You already know.”
“No, I don’t. Tell me what’s going on!”
A pounding at the door caused me to jump.
“Shit. Listen, I’m going to inject this into the blanket, but you must pretend to be very tired and to see things that aren’t there. And when I ask you questions, you better come up with some answers. They are not playing around here!”
He nodded subtly and the door came open just as I finished emptying the syringe.
I stood quickly. “I’m done here, Sergeant. It will take effect in a few minutes.”
“Good, Dr. Carter. Now we’re going to get somewhere.”
I grabbed the tray and needles before anyone could get any ideas, and then left the room feeling very strange. And something was bothering me about the way he’d said “Dr. Carter.” It no longer sounded like a name I should be proud of.
Chapter 7
THE ARREST
I walked into the police station, clueless about where to start. It was nothing like TV.
The desks were black with modern curved metal legs. Marble floors and cubicles separated by frosted glass. Once I got over the contemporary décor, I refocused on my purpose. I wasn’t about to speak with just anyone. It would be pointless to feed this information to an officer who was busy with unrelated cases.
I searched for Officer Petty and the other officer who’d interviewed me after Andy’s death and were also handling Ms. Mary’s case. I’d met with them twice before and Officer Petty already noted how odd it was for me to be connected to two major crimes in such a short period. They would not ignore me, that’s for certain.
Sure, I didn’t really like the way they both looked at me like I was hiding something, but they knew about Andy and Ms. Mary, and I believed they would be very interested in Tim.
Turns out I was right. But somehow, it wasn’t the response I was looking for. Officer Petty was the only one who greeted me in the lobby, and he was the less friendly of the two.
“Where’s the other officer?” I asked.
“You mean Officer Wright?”
“I guess so.”
“He’s in court this afternoon. What can I do for you?”
I wished they were both there, because I’d always gotten the vibe that Officer Wright was the more sympathetic one. Officer Petty has this accusatory look in his eyes. Like when you talk, he tilts his head back slightly as if he’s trying to get a better angle as he dissects each word.
I shook off the feeling that he was seeing through to my core, discovering my previous lives or how I’d saved Wes or the secrets I now held. Instead I tried to focus on the here and now. The most pressing matter: Tim Walters.
I cleared the itch in my throat. “I have some information on Mary Payne’s murder.”
His eyes widened and he nodded his head. “Well then, let’s go to my desk and talk about it.”
Within minutes we were seated across a desk with papers sprawled out all over it. Even though there didn’t seem to be a method to their arrangement, he uncovered the file with ease, opened it, and said, “Alright, let’s see, I last interviewed you a few weeks ago and you knew nothing. What’s changed, Ms. Slone?”
“Well, I found out that a boy I used to work with witnessed the murder. His name is Chase Chambers and he said Tim Walters killed Ms. Payne, because he had a vendetta against me. Tim is Andrew Walter’s grandson, and he blamed me for his grandfather’s death, then created an opening at Healey’s so Chase could work there to basically torment me and seek his revenge.”
I was talking so fast that I wasn’t sure if any of it made sense, but Officer Petty nodded and leaned back in his chair. “So you are involved?”
“What? Me? No. I’m not involved. I just—”
“Relax, Ms. Slone. I meant that we figured it was not a coincidence that two crimes occurred around you. So now that we know we were correct in our assumption, let’s get this on paper.”
I told him everything Chase said in his video, and everything was going well until he asked me where he could find Chase. That was a problem.
“Um. He’s actually not living anymore . . . he’s . . . dead.”
“He’s what?”
“He killed himself last night.”
He raised a brow and pulled the pen out of his mouth.
“You mean Chase Chambers is dead, too? Three people you know?”
I opened my mouth to speak and then snapped it shut. What was he suggesting now?
He finally spoke. “Look, Ms. Slone, this is getting deeper and deeper every time I see you. If Chase is no longer with us, then how am I supposed to proceed with this new information?”
That was easy. I pulled Chase’s phone out of my purse and put it on top of the highest mound of forms on his desk. “He mailed me this before he died. It’s a video message. A confession, actually.”
“Hmm. Alright. Let me take a look.”
After a silent viewing, the officer looked up at me and pressed his lips together before parting them to release words I’d heard too many times on TV. “Ms. Slone, this is not enough to prove anything. We can’t arrest anyone based on a dead person’s video message. Not to mention the fact that we can’t prove he wasn’t coerced into saying these things. Or the fact that—”
“Listen,” I interrupted. “I’m just the messenger here. I’m not in the business of arresting anyone or saving the world from criminals. But this guy is a murderer and he’s after me. I don’t want this guy locked up. I need him locked up. My life depends on it.”
And it did. It wasn’t a lie. Wes’ life depended on us finding him, and his life was my life, so yeah, my life depended on it. I stood up gaining more confidence. “Now, I have given you solid proof and if you went out there and looked into half of what Chase says on here, you might not just close your case, but you could save a few more lives.”
“Alright. Alright.” He put his hand up. “I won’t make promises, but I will look into it. That’s all I can say.”
I shook my head and felt my eyes watering, so I just turned around and walked out of there with my head down.
I knew at this point that Wes was in serious trouble. There’s no doubt that he would’ve called me by now. I knew he couldn’t and if he couldn’t, then that meant whoever had him wasn’t planning on letting him go any time soon.
Words cannot describe the urgency that was flaring through me. I didn’t have any more time to wait on other people to come through. I confirmed my decision, right there in the police station parking lot, to find Tim and confront him on my own. What other choice did I have?
I called Danny and asked him what nights the fight club met and he told me I was in luck. Hardly.
“Why do you want to know?”
“I’m just curious.”
“Well, if you were thinking about telling them about Chase, you don’t have to worry. I already called Tim and told him what happened.”
What?! “You told Tim?”
“Yeah, he was his only other friend besides me.”
Trying not to sound too irritated, I managed to speak calmly. “What did he say?”
“He said it was messed up. I just wish he would come to the funeral. That’d be nice. It’s the least he could do considering how much money Chase made him at the fight club.”
I knew why he wasn’t going to come. That would be the ultimate twisted, no-conscience-having scum, but I was extremely curious to hear his explanation for bailing on a so-called friend.
“Why can’t he come?”
“Said he’s moving this weekend.”
At that point I could no longer keep up the façade. “This weekend?!”
“Yeah, and Dad says the funeral won’t be until next week, so it’ll just be us, unless we can track down some family somewhere.”
“I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”
This weekend? Moving? Oh, no. No, no, no. I had to corner him. Even if that meant going directly into the lion’s den. Did I have a plan for when I got there? No, but that didn’t stop me. Dark, creepy rooms with sweaty, drugged up guys beating each other’s brains out were not going to keep me from seeing Tim, face to face. Scared to death or not, I was running out of time.
Around 9:00, I found myself parked in the creepy, dark alley that led to the back entrance of the building where the fight club met. I’d thought about asking Dawn or even Danny to come with me, but hadn’t wanted to put them into a dangerous situation just because I was chicken.
That meant it was up to me to work my way into the sweaty, stinky, loud basement to confront Tim. I mean really, what could he do to me in front of everyone? No, not just everyone else. Men, lots of them . . . just as intimidating as Tim.
I took a deep breath and got out of my car, slowly making my way through the narrow opening between the Dumpster and the brick wall of the neighboring building. My heart was racing, but this time I wasn’t concerned with possible rats at my feet. The fear was a result of threats homing in on me from much higher. Piercing my back, my side, my front. Everywhere, I felt dark, hidden, back-alley eyes on me.
I looked around, paranoid, and saw only darkness, which was just as unsettling. The moment I stepped past the Dumpster, I froze. What am I doing here? I’m no superhero with an invisible protective shield.
If my time with Wes was any indication of my invincibility, it was clear that I was the complete opposite. I wanted Wes home more than my own breath, but more importantly, I wanted to give Wes everything he’s ever asked of me. And at the top of his list would be not purposely putting myself in dangerous situations.
A zillion warnings whispered through my mind telling me I shouldn’t be going there, alone, at night, by myself. Conflicted, I found myself carrying on a conversation with Wes.
His urgent, but soothing tone, told me he was proud of me, and what I was attempting was amazing but stupid, so please turn around and find another way. “You don’t belong here,” he said. “You belong with me, safe, and in my arms. Have patience. Be smart.”
The Iron Quill Page 5